


I Can't Get You Off [My Mind]

by LexiWritesThings



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Gavin is an idiot who can't stop breaking his phones, M/M, Phone Sex, Ragehappy Secret Santa, Ragehappy Secret Santa 2016, Repression, Slow Burn, Teasing, burnie is the master of repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexiWritesThings/pseuds/LexiWritesThings
Summary: After Gavin bricks his phone, Burnie discovers the younger man has a secret job on the side. (Alternatively titled: “Burnie Burns is the Master of Repressing His Own Emotions and Thoughts”). 
Written for itsmeekaciee on tumblr for the Ragehappy Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2016





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was not supposed to be this long but I'm so happy with it. Burnvin doesn't get enough love and I'm glad I could add my own smut to the mix. Hope my recipient likes this! 
> 
> (also I took a lot of inspiration from mightbeanasshole/horrificsmut, so much thanks to kelly for being so amazing!)

“You’re such an idiot, Gavin.”

 

“What, like we didn’t already know that?”

 

A string of giggles erupted from the control room, echoing those on set.

 

“Yeah, Gus, you’re right,” Burnie conceded as Barbara snorted loudly into her beer. He shot a look at Gavin, who wore the same smug smirk he often adopted when insulted on camera. The younger man was clearly eating up all the attention focused his way, however playfully negative it might have been.

 

“But really, this is, what, the fourth one you’ve bricked this year?”

 

“The third,” Gavin corrected, wiggling said broken iPhone in the air, “It wouldn’t normally be a problem—”

 

“Because constantly breaking your cell phone _totally_ isn’t a problem—” Gus interjected.

 

“But fucking AT&T screwed up and they changed my number, so now I have to make sure everyone’s got the new one and all that faff.”

 

“You could tweet it out,” Barbara suggested, carefully putting her beer on the low coffee table in front of the couch.

 

“Nah, I’m not that much of an idiot.”

 

“Eh, that’s up for debate,” added Gus. Gavin made an indignant noise and chucked his defunct phone at him, missing by a mile. Burnie laughed loudly as Gus snatched the pillow off the couch from behind Gavin’s back and swung it at the Brit, who flopped backwards and nearly upended Barbara’s beer.

 

It was moments like these that assured Burnie that he made the right decision, bringing Gavin to Austin all those years ago.

 

“Shut up and play with your new phone while I read this,” Gus finally said, chuckling as Gavin tried to right himself on the sofa.

 

“Can’t, I left it on my desk,” Gavin replied with a wide smile, “Like I was gonna risk shattering the damn thing the same day I got it.”

 

“Oh, so now you understand the value taking care of your property?”

 

Burnie watched as Gavin tried to ping a beer cap off Gus’s face during the ad-read, struggling not to laugh as the younger man once again missed spectacularly. So far, the Podcast was going par for the course, and Burnie didn’t even have to check his Twitter feed once.

 

The rest of the evening passed in its usual manner—dumb stories from Gus’s recent trips punctuated with confusing questions from Gavin that swiftly led to making fun of Gavin. The Post-Show rushed by with a single line of conversation—could a human with the ability to read binary code infect himself with a virus programmed in binary?—and that was that.

 

Gus sprung up from his chair as soon as the recording finished and meandered over to the control room, rubbing the spot on his cheek where Gavin had landed a successful blow with another beer cap. Burnie stood for the first time in two hours, yawning widely. The crew was already bustling about, pulling cable and tidying up the studio. The shear amount of work going on around him reminded Burnie of a time before all this started, before _he_ started this. It was a good feeling, knowing he was the catalyst.

 

Nearby, Gavin was still sprawled on the couch with Barbara, engrossed in something on her phone. _Probably that cat video she was talking about earlier_ , Burnie thought. Out of habit, Burnie pulled his own phone from his pocket and unlocked it, ignoring all the notifications that covered the lock screen. He flipped through his apps without purpose and let his thumb hover over Twitter before a text interrupted him.

 

**_Gus Sorola                                                      now_ **

_What’s Gavin’s new number? Inevitably going to_

_have to track him down for the podcast next week._

 

Burnie tapped the notification and made to type out a response, before realizing that he didn’t actually _have_ Gavin’s new phone number. Because of course Gavin didn’t bother to send him his new number, God forbid anything happened and the older man needed to get in contact with the Brit. Huffing, Burnie turned to the sofa—

 

Only to find it unoccupied.

 

“Shit,” Burnie murmured under his breath, catching sight of Gavin fleeing the studio arm in arm with Barbara. The two were most likely off to continue drinking, as the Brit had managed to make Barbara inhale more than half of what she had been sipping the entire night.

 

If Burnie didn’t get Gavin’s new number now, he would inevitably forget. He was a busy guy, it wasn’t his damn fault. He also didn’t want any grousing from Gus about not getting shit done.

 

With a sigh, Burnie pocketed his phone and turned in the opposite direction. The new Achievement Hunter offices were across the parking lot, not too far but just far enough to be a major inconvenience if one didn’t anticipate walking over to them. Such as Burnie. Narrowly avoiding an intern with a bundle of delicately wrapped cable in her arms, Burnie escaped through the back door of the studio.

 

The night air was crisp, mid-November having finally brought a cold front through Texas. It had been unusually humid earlier in the day, so Burnie had forgone long sleeves. Now, he wrapped his arms around himself and wished distantly for a jacket.

 

The parking lot was practically empty at 10:30 at night. Most crew members that knew they were working the Podcast tended to carpool, and those who wanted to stick around to watch headed out right after the Post-Show. It was slightly creepy having to traverse across it alone, and Burnie cursed loudly, hoping that Gavin could hear him from wherever the younger man had gone to.

 

Swiping into the building, Burnie was no less creeped out. All the lights were off, making the long shadows that formed on the walls even more unsettling. The entire place was silent, save for the quiet hum of the heating unit. As the halls were usually filled with the boisterous noise that only Achievement Hunter could create, it was weird as hell being able to hear his own footsteps.

 

“Fucker had to leave his phone over here,” Burnie whispered to himself. He sped in the direction of the main room, pointedly not looking anywhere but straight ahead, and let out a sigh of relief when he was through the door.

 

Burnie walked over to Gavin’s desk and smiled fondly as his eyes swept over the organized chaos the younger referred to as “a system.” Old coffee mugs and random office supplies were scattered around, various game cases and wires flung down carelessly. In the middle, seeming to repel the mess, was a new iPhone 7. It wasn’t in a case, something that was of no surprise to Burnie. Gavin’s “challenge” seemed to be more of a costly backfire on his own part than anything else.

 

It occurred to Burnie, as he picked up the new phone and typed in the code he knew Gavin always used, that this could be considered an invasion of personal property. But anything that protected Burnie from getting a tongue-lashing from Gus was fine by him. Besides, Burnie had known Gavin so long, it felt like anything one of them owned, the other had exclusive rights to. _Kind of like marriage_ , Burnie thought with a laugh.

 

Burnie tapped over to the phone app and selected the “contacts” section. The entire list was blank. Burnie rolled his eyes. With his free hand, Burnie wriggled his own phone out and edited Gavin’s contact information before carefully putting the Brit’s new phone back.

 

He turned to leave, but paused for a moment in deliberation. He spun on his heels and knocked over Gavin’s chair for good measure, then hurried out of the office. It never got old, fucking with the little shit.

 

* * *

 

 

Burnie let himself flop down on his bed, exhaustion washing over him in thick waves. It had been a very, _very_ long day—the Immersion shoot had gone about six hours too long, the camera equipment had refused to work, and Michael had bashed his head into a low doorframe halfway through the day, requiring four stitches. Despite all the issues, it looked like Live Action was going to be able to scrape together a pretty awesome episode, but all the same. Burnie was dead fucking tired.

 

Realizing he should probably get under the covers, Burnie groaned and sat up, rooting through his pockets for his wallet and phone.

 

“Fuck my dick,” Burnie muttered, noticing a distinct lack of his building access keycard. Gavin had it—the other man had begged to borrow it earlier in the day and hadn’t given it back to Burnie before he left with Michael and Lindsay for a ride home.

 

Regardless, Burnie was going to need the damn thing, as he had a meeting the next day and wanted to get there early to grab some files from his office. With a disgruntled noise, Burnie picked up his phone from where it had fallen on his mattress and navigated to Gavin’s name in his contacts list. Distantly, it occurred that the last time Burnie had called or texted Gavin was before he had gotten a new number the previous week, and he hoped the idiot hadn’t gotten a new one since.

 

The line rang three times—Burnie knew the asshole was awake and likely editing Slow Mo Guys footage from Dan’s recent trip to Austin—before it connected. Gavin’s usual squawked greeting however, was suspiciously absent.

 

“’Ello love. Kind of late for this, isn’t it?”

 

Shocked by not being immediately torn a new one for calling so late, Burnie remained silent. Did the fucker not have his contact info, and confused him with whatever woman-of-the-week he was currently seeing? It seemed Gavin didn’t care for an answer, as he continued speaking without waiting for a response.

 

“Were you nervous about calling? There’s nothing to be scared about, love, lots of people need a little help when it comes to getting off. Do _you_ need a little help? Need a tad bit more than your right hand? Did you wake up aching, wanting my voice and wishing it was more?”

 

_What the fuck_ , Burnie thought eloquently, brain not connecting to his mouth. Was this some sort of elaborate joke? Perhaps a weird, exhaustion-induced dream? All the same, Burnie felt like his throat had closed tightly, and Gavin seemed particularly invested in the one-sided conversation.

 

“A little shy, aren’t you?” Gavin crooned sweetly, “Don’t be, love. Just close your eyes and pretend I’m there with you, curling around you, just like my voice is now. You’re warm and comfortable and safe, and you’ve got nothing holding you back. You whimper when my fingers slide down your chest, trail across your stomach, and tease the head of your cock too lightly to do anything but drive you _crazy_. Gods, love, you could probably hammer nails with the damn thing, you’re so hard. You moan and feel like you’re going to shake apart, and I tell you, ‘It’s alright, darling, be as loud as you want. You know I love your voice—‘ You want to tell me your name, love?”

 

Burnie had gone decidedly numb. He thought a small, slightly distressed noise escaped his mouth, but he couldn’t be sure. His brain was in the process of shutting down entirely because _holy fuck, was Gavin a fucking phone sex operator?_

 

“Don’t want to give out too much sensitive information, huh? Don’t worry, lots of guys don’t, nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, I don’t really need to know your name when I’m too busy littering your neck with kisses, maybe letting my teeth slide over your skin just a little bit, never too much to draw blood—unless you’re into that.

 

“My fingers are still dancing over the hot, angry-red skin of your dick, and you keep moaning and begging me to just get on with it, you’ve been hard so long it’s almost _painful_ , so I finally take pity and wrap my hand tightly around you, feeling every pulse that shoots through you. You cry out and—“

 

Burnie hadn’t noticed his hand slowly moving up his thigh, and was thoroughly alarmed when he felt his fingers going to imitate exactly what Gavin was describing. With panic flooding through him in a rush, Burnie’s body finally caught up with his brain and he hastily hung up, cutting Gavin off mid-sentence.

 

Fuck. Shit. Okay, that was a lot to take in all at one time. Gavin apparently became a phone sex operator at the end of the day, and an eloquent one at that. And he was definitely into guys, no questions about that. And shit, he was _good_ at whatever weird voice sex that had almost just occurred. He was either a natural, or had gotten in far too much practice. A constant mantra of _too much, too much_ ran through Burnie’s head, threatening to send him into a deep panic.

 

So Burnie did the easiest thing possible—he pushed the entire previous five minutes to the back of his mind and locked it away behind a door labeled, “DO NOT OPEN, EVER.” He flopped back on the bed, pointedly ignoring the hardness in his boxers, and fell into an uneasy, unsatisfied slumber.

 

The next day, Burnie was late to work. He completely forgot that Gavin still had his building access keycard until he pulled into the parking lot, causing him to groan and accidentally press his elbow into his horn. A huddle of animators headed toward the main doors collectively jumped at the noise. Burnie rested his head against the window of his truck, letting the cool glass calm him down. He could do this. Not one to show weakness, Burnie swallowed the torrent of confusion that dared to spill out into total hysteria and hurried after the animators.

 

So lost in his own world, he nearly had a heart attack when he reached the door to his office—Gavin was slumped against the wall, tapping half-heartedly on his phone and yawning. At the sound of Burnie’s footsteps, he looked up and grinned.

 

“Sorry,” he said through a yawn as he stepped forward and handed Burnie his keycard, “Couldn’t sleep last night.”

 

Burnie couldn’t make eye contact. This was going to be some special sort of hell.

 

* * *

 

Over the course of the next three weeks, Burnie ended up spending a lot of time alone. He wound up doing that thing where you try not to think about something so hard, you end up only being able to think about that one thing and nothing else. Hard as he tried, Burnie couldn’t get the low, sultry sound of Gavin’s voice out of his head, the way his accent curled around words that were almost always used as insults between the two of them, not masturbation fodder. To try and lighten the mental load, Burnie took to avoiding Gavin at all costs—not being around the root of the problem would solve it, wouldn’t it?

 

Evidently, Gavin wasn’t all that enthused about Burnie up and ignoring him. After the night of the Immersion shoot, the Brit had invited the older man out for drinks at least six times, only to be shot down immediately with some bullshit about this meeting or that event. Burnie was running out of reasonable excuses. Each time, it was obvious Gavin thought he had done something wrong, though he never said as much. Burnie tried to ignore it.

 

Barbara had insisted on treating Burnie to lunch one afternoon, stating that the older man hadn’t hung out with her in ages. Gavin’s sudden appearance behind her made Burnie’s heart beat just that much faster, and a muttered apology about a meeting he had forgotten slipped from his lips. He forced himself to block out how crestfallen the two had looked in his doorway.

 

So maybe it was getting a little unhealthy. But how else was Burnie supposed to react? One of his oldest friends, a kid he had known since he was just that, _a kid_ , was apparently a _mother fucking phone sex operator_ , and into guys—a fact that Burnie had _never_ imagined to be true—and it was just too much. It was easier on everyone if Burnie just stuck to this new recluse lifestyle, right?

 

One morning, as Burnie was trying to outline ideas for a live action sketch, a text caused his phone to practically vibrate off the table. Sighing and turning away from the near-blank Word document, Burnie picked up his phone and unlocked it.

 

**_Gus Sorola                                                      now_ **

_Don’t forget, Podcast tonight. I know you’re in_

_town, asshole, so no getting out of it._

Burnie let out a loud groan. He had completely forgotten it was Monday. The past three weeks, he had mercifully escaped being on the Podcast, with being out of town one night, claiming illness another, then insisting that Miles deserved to get more screen time.

 

It sucked, because Burnie genuinely enjoyed being on the Podcast. Getting to dick around for an hour and a half with his friends and get paid for it was a damn treat, no doubt, but the prospect of being around Gavin for an extended period gave him pause. Being around Gavin meant thinking about that phone call, about all it had revealed and, this being what Burnie was most trying to avoid thinking about, what that phone call had sparked in him.

 

It would be a lie to say Burnie hadn’t been turned on by Gavin’s whole act. He supposed that was the entire point, but he had definitely not expected his own body to be into something like that. Hell, he didn’t think another man’s voice could work him up like that. Save for a few times in college—sue him, it might have been a cliché but he was curious, dammit—Burnie had only ever gotten his rocks off with women. And it being Gavin on top of everything else…

 

Being on the Podcast was absolutely out of the question.

 

As he swiped down and prepared to expertly bullshit his way out again, a knock echoed through Burnie’s office. He paused, fingers hovering over his screen. He didn’t have a meeting scheduled, did he?

 

“Come in,” he called, locking his phone and setting it aside. He turned in his chair and felt his stomach jump into his throat.

 

Gavin stood awkwardly in his doorway, an air of nervous energy exuding from him. He had let his beard grow in a bit since the last time Burnie had looked at him long enough to notice.

 

“Uh, Gavin, why, er—”

 

“Gus said he was going to text you about the Podcast tonight and I wanted to come talk to you before you try and blow us all off again,” Gavin said in a rush, eyes burning brightly as they met Burnie’s.

 

“I wasn’t going to—”

 

“Yes, you were, you pisspot. I can tell, you’ve got that look on your face you always get when you lie.”

 

The fact that Gavin could so easily see through his every defense made Burnie flush.

 

The room was silent for a few beats before Gavin stepped forward, fully into Burnie’s office, and shut the door. He took a deep breath, looking like he was trying to psyche himself up, before looking back at Burnie. Guilt and apprehension colored his features, and Burnie instantly felt worse than he had in a long time.

 

“Did I do something wrong, Burnie?”

 

“No, Gav, you didn’t,” Burnie lied as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, already feeling a tension headache setting in. It was that or the pressure buildup of trying desperately to not think about anything at all.

 

“Then why the hell have you been avoiding me recently? We haven’t talked proper since the Immersion shoot and that was almost a month ago!”

 

Gavin looked confused and upset, and Burnie felt absolutely terrible.

 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, fighting to maintain eye contact, “I’ve just been busy. It’s not you, I promise.”

 

“Really? Because it damn well feels like it’s me.”

 

A heavy silence hung over the office. Burnie shifted in his chair, and the fierce energy Gavin had seemed to be channeling suddenly flooded from him. Burnie watched as the younger man slumped slightly, cast his eyes downward, and took a small step toward his chair.

 

“You know the audience misses you whenever you skip the Podcast for too long. At least show up for them.”

 

With that, Gavin turned on his heels and walked from the room, letting the door close quietly.

 

Burnie let out a puff of air and turned back to his computer, staring at the blank screen and trying to ignore the burning shame coursing through him. Disappointing Gavin was like kicking a puppy, and Burnie wished for most likely the millionth time that he hadn’t called Gavin that night.

 

Scrubbing at his eyes behind his glasses with one hand, Burnie grasped for his phone with the other and wondered if he could convince an intern to go and get some whiskey for him.

 

**_to: Gus Sorola_ **

_I’ll be there, don’t worry._

That night, the Podcast went better than Burnie had expected. Somehow, conversation had been dominated by Barbara, who had quickly picked up on the awkward tension radiating from Burnie and was trying to cover for it as best as she could. Burnie was so damn thankful for her and made a mental note to buy her lunch.

 

As soon as recording for the Post-Show stopped, Burnie was up and out of his seat, trying not to imagine the devastated look that was most likely on Gavin’s face. But Burnie couldn’t stand to be within a few feet of the Brit. If he stuck around, something would inevitably slip from his mouth and embarrass the hell out of both of them.

 

So maybe it was the weird, pent-up anxiety that had been building up under Burnie’s skin for weeks, or the gentle, sad look Gavin had shot his way earlier, or even _the way Gavin had methodically run his hand up and down the neck of his beer bottle for a good five minutes during the Podcast_ , but Burnie’s brain was officially on strike. His body was making stupid decisions void of mental processing power and he could not be held responsible for his actions.

 

Laying on his bed, Burnie felt like he was watching himself from a third-person perspective. His hand unlocked his phone and scrolled to Gavin’s name on its own accord, and his mouth ran without conscious thought.

 

“’Ello? How can I help—”

 

“I don’t need the intro spiel Gavin,”

 

Burnie registered the sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line.

 

“Burnie, I—” Gavin’s voice sprung up several octaves, going from sultry to panicked in no time at all.

 

“Just, I know what this number is. I don’t care what you do in your free time, so long as it isn’t, I don’t know, killing people or some shit. But I don’t want to talk about this right now. I don’t want to talk about anything. I want to listen.”

 

A long beat of silence. Then, slowly—

 

“Alright. What do you want to hear?”

 

“Whatever you have.”

 

Burnie could hear Gavin taking a deep lungful of air as the line went silent once more. Absolutely nothing was stopping Burnie from hanging up right now—except, for some wildly unknown reason, the older man couldn’t bear the thought of doing so.

 

“Was it you that called three weeks ago and didn’t say anything? It makes sense, you avoiding me all the time.”

 

The deeper, heavier tone of Gavin’s voice sent electric sparks down Burnie’s spine. The younger had paused, and was apparently waiting for an answer. Burnie’s throat worked out the words on its own accord.

 

“Yes, yeah, I called.”

 

That seemed to be enough speaking for Gavin, who continued without being asked.

 

“The thing is, lots of guys call and hang up. But you stayed on the line for a while. You listened to me.”  


Gavin paused, and Burnie was acutely aware of his own breathing.

 

“You must’ve liked what I was saying, then. Probably something about getting you off with my hands, my mouth, you turning into a puddle under me. Something about me setting your skin on fire with my fingers, letting them slowly trail down to your cock but not actually touching—not enough to get you off. Just teasing you enough to drive you absolutely mad, get you hard enough to hammer fucking nails. Something about me nipping at the base of your neck and letting my tongue slide down your chest. Something about you whining, begging for me to just _get on with it, Gavin_ and me finally indulging you, wrapping my fingers around your dick and tugging just hard enough—was that pretty much it?”

 

Burnie felt his voice stick in the back of his throat. He nodded, then realized that Gavin wasn’t actually in the room with him. He hoped a strangled noise of agreement would be enough.

 

“So do you want me to continue where I left off?

 

Burnie heard another choked noise escape from his throat.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gavin chuckled, “So you’re already hard, and I’m just now getting serious about actually getting you off. I breathe thickly into your skin, which feels like it’s on fucking _fire_ , and I feel your pulse under my touch. You’re so turned on, you can’t think of anything else except me and my hand, my mouth.

 

My hand is wrapped loosely around your cock, stroking slow and even, twisting up a little when I reach the head of your dick. The tight, warm friction is driving you ever so closer to the edge, and my tongue, tracing patterns down your collarbone, is what really sets you off. You’re moaning now, long and drawn out and trying to say my name, trying to say—”

 

“ _Gavin._ ”

 

Burnie was only slightly shocked to hear his own voice, tense and small but definitely his own. Over the line, Gavin took a sharp breath, probably not expecting the older man to make any noise other than a few grunts. It didn’t seem to deter him, though, as he picked up immediately—perhaps with even more enthusiasm than before.

 

“And you finally manage it and I reward you by tightening my grip, pulling harder at your aching cock. My other hand slowly trails across your hip, down and around to your balls, and the extra stimulation makes you cry out even louder.”

 

There was a hand around Burnie’s dick. Not just the phantom feeling of Gavin’s voice, but a legitimate, _real_ hand around Burnie’s dick. It was at that point Burnie realized it was _his own hand_ , shoved roughly down the front of his jeans.

 

“I can tell you’re getting closer, getting worked up and tense. You whine when I move my hand away from you, and you buck your hips into the air, searching for just a tiny bit of friction. And then I’m between your legs, my fingers wrapped around your cock again, holding you so I can fit my mouth around the head.

 

“I guess you know more than the other blokes that call me that I have a horrible gag reflex, so you know I can’t deep throat you or anything. So I just keep tonguing at the slit, using my hands to cover everything that doesn’t fit in my mouth. The _warm, wet_ slide of my mouth is a million times better than my hand alone, and your whole world narrows to just the two of us, nothing else.”

 

Distantly, Burnie registered that Gavin’s voice was getting breathier and breathier with every sentence. The thought that Gavin was getting himself off at the same time Burnie was set something burning in the pit of his stomach, and the electric feeling of his own hand on his dick was suddenly so much more intense.

 

“You’re so close now, aren’t you? I can feel the way your pulse is jumping under my tongue. You need to come, you can feel it building under your skin, my tongue dancing along the crown of your cock and my fingers teasing up to your balls, it’s so much and you’re getting closer and closer to the edge—”

 

“ _Shit, Gavin—!”_ Burnie cried out as his orgasm ripped through him in a crashing wave. It was too much: Gavin’s strangely articulate manner, the deep quality of his voice with his accent curling around it dangerously, the phantom sensation of Gavin _actually_ getting him off with his mouth and hands.

 

Burnie blinked the white spots out of his vision, grimacing at the slick stickiness covering his hand. The line had gone silent, maybe Gavin had hung up—

 

Then Burnie heard the soft moans coming from the other end, and once more, Burnie’s mouth decided to go and do its own thing without permission.

 

“Come on Gav, come for me.”

 

The sharp intake of breath and short, loud moan that followed was enough to assure him that Gavin had most definitely followed instructions.

 

Then the line really did go quiet, and Burnie felt a bit like it was a rough morning after.

 

“So, um, how much do I—”

 

Gavin laughed, high and clear, and Burnie felt like a large weight had been lifted from his chest.

 

“Nothing, you dolt, just buy me lunch tomorrow. And stop avoiding me.”

 

Burnie chuckled, shifting on the bed, “That I can do.”

 

Another moment of silence washed over the two, but Burnie felt decidedly less awkward.

 

“Good night, Burnie. See you at work.”

 

“Night, Gavin.”

 

And with that, the line finally went dead. Burnie blinked several times and then dropped his phone on the bed, sitting up. Things needed to be thought about now. He had just gotten his rocks off while Gavin was painting a deliciously dirty picture of the two of them over the phone. For some reason, he felt empty—like Gavin should be next to him, curled into his side.

 

Yes, he should definitely think about this.

 

But he didn’t.

 

Instead, he stood and went to the bathroom, took a shower, and collapsed into a satisfied sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“—and I’m so tight around you now, so fucking hot for you, Burnie, the only thing you can do is come harder than you ever have before in your _life_ —”

 

Burnie does just that, letting out a low moan and pumping his throbbing cock as jumps under his hand, orgasm crashing over him. When his senses finally return, he gripped the phone firmly and relaxed against the pillows behind him.

 

“I’d reach around and pull you off quickly, you’re so good for me Gav, you’re so strung up that it barely takes anything at all before you’re coming too—”

 

Gavin whimpered at Burnie’s words and a few beats later, he groaned and panted harshly into the receiver.

 

“Jesus _Christ_ , Burns.”

 

Burnie laughed and turned on his side, ignoring the cooling come on his softening dick.

 

“Same time tomorrow, then?” Gavin asked, and Burnie almost laughed again. The question was only slightly stupid. Burnie had called Gavin every night for the past month, every night going to bed satisfied. Honestly, he hadn’t gotten off this much since he was in college.

 

“Yeah Gav, same time tomorrow.”

 

“We still on for lunch?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll come over to the AH office at noon.”

 

“Top. Night, Burnie.”

 

“Goodnight, Gavin.”

 

And with that, Burnie hung up and drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, just like he had every night for the previous month.

 

Maybe they should talk about it. It was, perhaps, not _entirely_ normal for two close friends to engage in phone sex every single night for a period of at least thirty days. But there just, hadn’t been a moment where it made any sense to talk about; at least, not from Burnie’s perspective.

 

(He ignored the fact that he and Gavin had been spending a lot more time alone together, doing anything and everything and just happening to be in the same place as the other. A lot of time alone. To talk. About everything. But they hadn’t.)

 

So they went on, just, doing what they were doing. Burnie didn’t think about it. He assumed Gavin didn’t think about it. Everything was fine.

 

(Except for the moments when Burnie couldn’t look at Gavin without thinking about touching him for real. Running his hands over him, pressing his lips to the younger’s neck, to his _lips_ —)

 

Nothing was different. Burnie was just having a lot of orgasms, he guessed Gavin was having a lot of orgasms, and it was _fine_. No reason whatsoever to think about anything at all.

 

It came to a head during—when else—the Podcast.

 

Burnie was relaxed into his chair, legs crossed at the ankle and laptop resting on his knees. He was grinning broadly as Barbara called Gavin out on every time the Brit had spent an ungodly sum of money on something he definitely didn’t need. Burnie knew Gavin’s terrible spending habits himself—though he had no room to talk either, if his Amazon order list was anything to go by. But he was content to let Barbara tear into Gavin, drawing squawks of protest from the younger man.

 

“Was there a specific reason you _needed_ an electric Japanese hairbrush, though? That’s what I want to know,” Gus added while raising his beer to his lips.

 

“You never know when you might need something!” Gavin cried for the fourth time. Barbara laughed and nearly spilled her drink on herself.

 

“That’s not a good answer, Gavin!”

 

Burnie couldn’t stop smiling. The scene was everything he had ever wanted in his life—all the people he cared most about sitting around, shooting the shit while entertaining others at the same time. A bubbling warmth had settled in his chest, filling him with a deep sense of satisfaction. This was contentment, wasn’t it?

 

Except there was something missing. A small, nagging feeling that something was wrong and needed fixing.

 

Burnie ignored it.

 

“You need a sugar daddy or something,” Gus added, reaching for the iPad on the coffee table.

 

“He already has one, though.”

 

“What?” Gavin cried, already laughing.

 

“Yeah—Burnie,” Barbara supplied, eyes sparkling with mischief. Gus and the entire control room let out a roar of laughter, and Gavin yelped, turning to the blonde next to him and seeming to communicate novels through a series of facial expressions that made him resemble a fish.

 

Burnie forced a laugh but couldn’t shake the odd feeling that had lodged itself in the back of his throat.

 

“He spent how much time and money to get you over here? You can’t tell me that he wasn’t just trying to import your twink ass,” Barbara said, grin pulling at the corners of her mouth, “Plus, didn’t you have like, a giant crush on him when we were younger?”

 

At this, the room went silent. Burnie couldn’t breathe. He turned to face Gavin and felt confused and slightly dizzy. Was Barbara just fucking around or—?

 

“Hah, I mean, yeah, when we were like, seventeen?” Gavin admitted, rubbing the back of his neck absently, “And it was like, hero worship or whatever, nothing serious.”

 

After another moment of silence, Gus snorted.

 

“Alright, let’s move on, you all aren’t entertaining when you’re embarrassed and quiet.”

 

The conversation shifted, but Burnie wasn’t following it at all. His mind was going about a thousand miles an hour, nothing sticking around for long. It was all a befuddling mix of emotions and revelations and, shit, did Gavin really have a crush on him? He was too embarrassed for it to have been hero worship or whatever he tried to pass it off as.

 

Burnie wasn’t entirely sure what to think. They needed to talk.

 

For the time being, Burnie tried to pay attention to the others, contributing every so often to the topic at hand, but mostly keeping to himself. He couldn’t stop looking over at Gavin every so often, and, strangely, couldn’t stop thinking about pulling Gavin to him and just, holding him.

 

God, he needed a drink.

 

Much, much later that night, after going out for drinks with Gavin and Barbara—the Brit remained awkwardly stilted the entire time, obvious thinking about a million and one other things—Burnie pulled out his phone and, without even thinking, hit Gavin’s secondary contact info.

 

The line rang four times before Gavin answered—twice as long as it usually took. Burnie tried not to think about it.

 

“Hey,” he breathed into the receiver as he let himself settle against the mattress.

 

“Uh, hi Burnie,” Gavin replied, sounding distant and quiet. But not quiet in that deep, sexy way. Quiet in the _something is blatantly wrong_ way.

 

“What’s up? You still have that crush on me?” Burnie asked with a chuckle, thinking nothing of it. Apparently, the same did not go for Gavin, as the line went silent.

 

“Burnie, about that…”

 

Burnie sat up, any hint of arousal gone. Concern shot through him like a bullet.

 

“What’s wrong Gavin? If you’re scared I’m gonna judge you for whatever you might have felt, what, ten years ago—”

 

“I still have a crush on you Burnie.”

 

Burnie couldn’t produce words. Part of him couldn’t actually comprehend what Gavin had just said. Gavin didn’t have a crush on him. Gavin had crushes on women, and attractive people, and people _his own age_. Not some old dude who he’d known since he was fifteen. If anything, Gavin should have a crush on someone like Joel—at least he was better looking.

 

“Burnie, I’m sorry, please, it’s just, we’ve been doing this and—”

 

The line went dead. Burnie distantly questioned why. He looked down at his phone and realized he had ended the call. He wasn’t sure if he had meant to do that or not.

 

His brain had vacated the premises, it seemed.

 

Without another thought, Burnie rolled over onto his side and shut his eyes tightly, shock keeping his mind pleasantly blank as sleep overcame him.

 

Thus began the worst week of Burnie’s life.

 

While he slept deeply, Burnie had unsettling dreams night after night. They never stuck with him, simply leaving behind a strange feeling of dread and shame and confusion. He took to drinking a few fingers of whiskey before bed each night in hope of actually getting a decent night’s rest, but to no avail.

 

During the day, Burnie kept to his office, avoiding all visitors at all costs. He couldn’t concentrate long enough on one project to get much of anything done. His time was spent violently resisting any attempt his brain had to think about the situation at hand, so there wasn’t much room to do anything else.

 

And then there was Gavin.

 

Gavin, it seemed, had gotten over his shame rather quickly, moving on to unbridled rage. He himself took to avoiding Burnie—which, admittedly, made it easier on the older man. All the same, Burnie tried hard to push aside the raw hurt that came with every glare the Brit sent his way when they passed each other in the halls.

 

To put it lightly, Burnie was having a horrific time.

 

One afternoon, after spending a solid hour staring at the rear wall of his office, exhaustion seeping into every bone in his body, Burnie closed his laptop, set it aside, and leaned back in his spot on the small couch next to his desk. He let his eyes close and, for the first time in a while, let himself think. It was something he had been repressing for long enough. Perhaps it was time to stop running from his own thoughts. Lord knows he was tired.

 

Burnie loved Gavin. There was no question in his mind that he loved the younger man. Gavin was caring and smart and quirky and passionate and had been his friend for so long, it was hard to remember a time when he couldn’t call Gavin a friend. Barbara had been right—Burnie had spent an ungodly sum of money on lawyers, flights, visas, and everything else involved in getting Gavin to the United States all those years ago.

 

Burnie let himself think about a world in which they had given up, and Gavin had never moved to Austin.

 

It wasn’t a fun thought.

 

Burnie wouldn’t be able to see Gavin’s wide, genuine smile every day. He wouldn’t be able to hear his dumbass questions and ideas that, with enough logic, _actually made sense_ , in person. He wouldn’t be able to hear the younger man’s bubbling, squeaky laugh, or see the way the light catches in his hair, or listen to the thousands of intricacies of the latest Slow Mo Guys video Gavin was in the middle of editing. Burnie wouldn’t be able to pick through Gavin’s ideas and stories and the thought of that made Burnie’s stomach drop.

 

He wouldn’t be able to see _Gavin_ every day, and that hurt him more than he thought it would.

 

Feeling panic rise in the back of his mind, Burnie desperately tried to think about not seeing any of his other close friends every day.

 

Nothing came close to Gavin. Sure, he would be sad if Geoff or Gus or Barbara or any of the others weren’t in his immediate proximity most of the time, but something about the idea of Gavin being even a few hundred miles away from him for an extended period made him queasy.

 

So maybe he did feel a bit more than friendly toward Gavin.

 

No, no maybes. Burnie definitely felt the inklings of something more there. He had pushed it aside for so long, repressed and ignored because it was just so farfetched, that he had just never realized it before. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely sure, but with time, Burnie felt certain he could grow to love Gavin entirely.

 

He needed to find Gavin.

 

Rocketing up, Burnie nearly upended his coffee table. He paused to steady it, then raced from his office out into the hallway. He had absolutely no idea where Gavin could be, as a majority of Achievement Hunter was out at a convention and filming was at a minimum. Maybe just wandering around until he found someone to ask would be fruitful—

 

Luck granted Burnie a break, because Gavin emerged from the kitchen just as he was walking toward it.

 

The Brit grimaced and pointedly turned in the opposite direction, but Burnie was on a mission, dammit, and he needed to get this dealt with before things got worse, or he chickened out entirely. Whichever came first. So Burnie grabbed Gavin by the wrist and yanked him into the empty conference room at the end of the hall.

 

“What the hell, get off me!” Gavin yelped, tugging violently in an effort to get away. Burnie just sped up, not loosening his grip.

 

After closing the conference room door, Burnie unhanded Gavin. The Brit leapt back, massaging his wrist and nearly hissing at the older man. Burnie felt a twinge of guilt—he had dragged Gavin with quite a bit of force. But this was important.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Gavin tilted his head back and snorted loudly.

 

“Oh, so now you want to talk? What happened to ignoring me and hoping I would just never talk to you again?”

 

“Gavin, that’s not what—”

 

“Not what you were doing? Cut the crap, Burnie, that was _exactly_ what you were doing. Why do you want to talk, anyway? You never want to talk. Not about me or my feelings, or about work, or about the damn _weather_ , you just want to pretend I don’t exist. Are you really that disgusted with me?”

 

A hurt, twisted look covered Gavin’s face.

  
“And that’s funny, isn’t it? Because of what we’ve been doing for the past month. Fucking around and _not talking about it_. Did you think that was all fine and good behind closed doors? What kind of two-faced bastard are you even? You just kept _using me_ for sex and we never talked about it—”

 

“You’re right.”

 

“And it’s not—wait, what?”

 

The torrential energy that had filled Gavin seemed to leave him like air from a popped balloon at Burnie’s words.

 

“You’re right. We should have talked about it.”

 

The look of disbelief on Gavin’s face urged Burnie forward, and he willed his throat to not seize up.

 

“I’ve been ignoring you because I didn’t want to acknowledge my own feelings. I’m an asshole, you know that. This is just, something I do when I can’t handle things. And I know it’s not right, it was a complete dick move and you have every right to be angry and never talk to me again. But you deserve to know that I feel the same way you do. About you. A crush, I mean.”

 

Gavin looked thoroughly unimpressed, and Burnie felt the need to continue, because he wouldn’t let this end badly, he couldn’t.

 

“So we can start over, try this thing for real. Because I _like you_ , Gavin, differently than I like Geoff or Joel or anyone else, and you deserve someone way better than me, someone who can properly function as a human being but—”

 

Burnie couldn’t finish his thought because Gavin had lunged forward, wrapped his arms around his neck, and kissed him.

 

Wrapping his own arms around Gavin’s waist, Burnie finally felt that niggling feeling of something being off finally disappear.

 

* * *

 

 

“God dammit, how did you manage to break this one?”

 

“It fell off the bed, so not my fault.”

 

“It was totally your fault if you and a certain someone were having sex when it fell off the bed, you idiot.”

 

Gavin opened his mouth to retort but closed it, seeming to realize Gus had him beat. Barbara laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry, Gavin, if this one went down for the worthy cause of banging, it was worth it.”

 

Burnie laughed hard, only to laugh harder when Gavin sent him a betrayed look.

 

“Hey, if we’re going by Gus’ logic, it’s partly your fault this thing broke!”  


“You’re the one who forgot to put it away before bed, asshole.”

 

It was still slightly strange to talk about bedroom habits on the Podcast, but it was getting easier. Burnie and Gavin had been together for six months, were accidently outed to the internet during an Achievement Hunter livestream three months in, and had generally stopped being awkward about the subject soon after. If anything, most of the audience was alright with it.

 

It was their relationship. No one else had a say.

 

The rest of the Podcast devolved into shouted arguments about the possibility that a dog could survive on the moon, and somehow, the topic of the Post-Show ended up on phone sex.

 

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Just like, talking about sex but not actually having it?”

 

Burnie choked on his beer and Gavin laughed loudly. As much as everyone and their mothers knew about their relationship, the world was yet to know of Gavin’s previous side job.

 

The night drew to a close and soon enough, Gavin and Burnie were home. Gavin had moved in a few weeks previous, after Burnie had that enough of Gavin’s personal belongings were in the house anyway, why not just make it official?

 

Gavin hadn’t complained, and Burnie’s heart had soared.

 

The best thing about living together was that sex could happen frequently, at whatever time of day they liked.

 

Burnie was especially happy about that fact as he pulled Gavin into a deep kiss, walking him toward the bed and pulling at his shirt.

 

“Damn, slow down,” Gavin breathed over a laugh, letting his own hands trail down Burnie’s sides and into the waistband of his jeans. Burnie growled playfully under his breath and felt his heartrate increase at the warm tease of Gavin’s fingers on his bare skin.

 

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Burnie muttered. He nipped down Gavin’s jaw and continued to try and pull Gavin’s shirt up. The younger man finally relented, pulling away just enough to remove the offending fabric and step out of his pants.

 

Burnie stared hungrily at the long expanse of tanned skin before him. Gavin was all his.

 

“Hey, keep up, I’m nearly naked and you’re standing there like a mong,” Gavin whinged. Burnie laughed at the Brit’s petulant tone and obliged him, dropping his clothes to the floor in a rush and tipping Gavin back onto the mattress. The smaller man fell backwards and bounced a bit.

 

“Who’s the mong now, huh?” Burnie taunted, boxing Gavin between his arms. Gavin chuckled at leaned up to kiss him, slipping his tongue past Burnie’s lips and moaning as Burnie did the same. The noise was delicious to Burnie’s ears.

 

He lowered himself, covering Gavin’s body with his own, and slowly ground his erection into Gavin’s. They both still wore their boxers, but the fabric between them didn’t keep the sensation from sending sparks up Burnie’s spine. From the way Gavin’s back arched, it was clear he felt similarly.

 

“Please, Burnie…”

 

With a grin, Burnie started pressing light kisses over Gavin’s neck, collarbone, and chest. He lavished the younger man’s nipples with his tongue, moving on after a moment. The mood didn’t call for all that much teasing—the two were tired after a long day, and both simply craved release.

 

“What do you want, Gav?” Burnie whispered against the younger’s skin, trailing his lips down the stretch of flat stomach before him. Gavin whimpered and gripped the sheets.

 

“You, filling me up, touching my cock and making me—”

 

“I gotcha, baby, I understand.”

 

Burnie gently tugged Gavin’s boxers down, the other man kicking them off the bed and Burnie removed his own while digging for the lube in the drawer of the bedside table. Burnie leaned forward and captured Gavin’s lips with his own, just because he could.

 

The whines and moans Gavin made as Burnie slowly opened him up were addictive. The tight, warm pressure around his fingers was driving the older man insane, as he knew how good it would be around his dick.

 

“Burnie, please, _please_ , I’m ready,” Gavin gasped as Burnie’s fingers brushed against his prostate. Burnie grinned and planted a kiss on Gavin’s cheek.

 

“Okay, alright, I’m here.”

 

Wiping his hand on the sheets, Burnie reached for the lube and slicked himself before lining up with Gavin’s entrance and gently pressing forward. He slid slowly in, moving until his hips met Gavin’s. The younger man was already writhing under him, adjusted to Burnie’s length and bursting with obvious pleasure.

 

It was such a treat to see him like that, Burnie thought absently before pulling back and pushing back in.

 

Their slow pace soon grew frantic, and Gavin’s whines and moans grew louder. Burnie grunted and moaned along with him, already feeling the coiling tension of his orgasm in the pit of his stomach. Burnie reached down and tugged at Gavin’s hard cock, sending the other over the edge. Gavin clenched around him involuntarily, and Burnie followed him over.

 

The two breathed in unison, heartrates slowly returning to normal. Gavin curled into Burnie’s embrace after the older man pulled out.

 

“Hey, we should shower, you get grossed out if we don’t.”

 

“Let’s just lay here for a minute, I’m bloody exhausted.”

 

Burnie indulged him, and closed his own eyes, enjoying the warm glow of the moment. It was impossible to think that half a year ago, he would have been slipping into a troubled slumber after hanging up on Gavin’s husky voice—

 

A thought occurred to Burnie. And, for once in his damn life, he didn’t ignore it.

 

(He was getting better at communication and feeling his feelings. It was a hard process, but if anything, it was for Gavin.)

 

“Hey, you never told me how you got into being a phone sex operator. I feel like that’s something I should know as your boyfriend.”

 

Gavin was silent for a moment, and Burnie thought he might have fallen asleep when he laughed loudly. He couldn’t stop, it seemed, because Burnie was getting worried at the alarming shade of red he was turning. Burnie brushed a hand down the Brit’s back in an attempt to encourage him to breathe.

 

“That’s a story for another time, I think,” Gavin said after calming down.

 

“Hey, that’s a total fucking copout and you know it,” Burnie warned, a yawn slipping from his lips.

 

“Yeah, it is, but we’re both tired and you have a meeting tomorrow morning, so we can talk about it this some other time. Soon,” Gavin added, and Burnie nodded.

 

“Fine, soon, just don’t think I’ll let you get out of telling me.”

 

“Don’t worry Burnie, I won’t.”

 

Another moment of silence passed between them. Gavin spoke up again.

 

“And just to let you know, I kind of took down all the ads and stuff and stopped answering calls that weren’t from you after the second time we did it. Just, so you know.”

 

Burnie smiled widely, a soft, hazy feeling that was definitely more than friendship blossoming in his chest and leaving him breathless. He hadn’t actually thought about that in the past six months, but it was reassuring nonetheless.   


“Thank you for letting me know that, Gavin, I appreciate it.”

 

With that, Gavin seemed to be ready to shower. He wiggled out of Burnie hold and jumped off the bed, landing with a thud and a crunch. Burnie sat up as Gavin swore loudly.

 

“What was that?”

 

Gavin’s arm shot up, and in his hand was his newest phone, a spider web of cracks radiating from the center.

 

“I might have left this in my pocket…and then stepped on it…”

 

Burnie laughed, freely and loudly and with as much love as his heart could muster.

 

“I love you so much Gavin, but you are an _idiot_.”

 

END


End file.
